


A bad day made better

by jamlockk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I should've posted this when it was actually relevant, References to UK politics, Sherlock hates owing Mycroft, but he loves John so he does it anyway, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9489383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamlockk/pseuds/jamlockk
Summary: John has had a bad day. Sherlock fixes it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ewebie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewebie/gifts).



John trudged home, the heat of the July day soaking into him and making him even more irritable. To say it hadn’t been the best of days was severely understating matters. He’d gotten a locum shift in the A&E and spent most of his non-patient time watching the news with the other doctors. 

He shook his head as he climbed the stairs to 221B, wanting nothing more than a takeaway and crap telly with Sherlock. It wasn’t as if things could get any worse, right? First Brexit, now this…

The man himself was lying on the sofa, eyes closed, one hand resting on his chest, mouth slightly open as he dozed. John couldn’t help the wave of fondness coursing through him at the sight. One of these days, he was going to just reach out, ruffle those curls and kiss that bloody man awake. 

He’d taken half a step towards the sofa before he clocked it, and suddenly Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. 

“Ah, John,” he said, voice rough with sleep, “tea?” 

“Ta, that’d be great,” John replied, plonking himself down in his chair and kicking off his shoes. Sherlock frowned at him. 

“What?” John snapped. Sherlock just sat there, frowning. Watching. Always bloody watching. Fine. John would just ignore him. Clearly he was thinking about something, deducing how crap John’s day had been. Well, fine. John had tried to explain to Sherlock before why this particular thing pissed him off so much, but it seemed Sherlock had deleted it. 

“Yes, I had a shit day. Yes, it’s that twat I told you about. No, I’m not surprised you deleted it. Christ Sherlock, it’s a wonder you even bothered to listen in the first place, it’s so dull,” John said brusquely. 

Sherlock opened his mouth. John stopped him with a raised hand and a scowl. 

“Don’t,” he said warningly. For once Sherlock’s minimal sense of self-preservation kicked in and he shut his mouth with a click. John shut his eyes, prayed for patience, snorted and stood up. 

“I’m going for a shower, I smell like hospital,” John grumbled. “You make the fecking tea.”

And he stomped off to the bathroom. 

\---

Twenty minutes later, John stepped out of the blisteringly hot shower and onto chilly tiles, feeling much more like his usual self. He dried off and tugged his jeans and a clean shirt on, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows and leaving the top few buttons undone. What? It was still muggy and hot in the flat, and if John wanted to leave his buttons undone he’d bloody well leave his buttons undone. 

He could hear the low rumble of Sherlock’s voice in the sitting room, and the sound of bare feet pacing the wooden floor. Curious, he quietly tiptoed out of the bathroom to eavesdrop on what Sherlock was saying. 

Sherlock had his back to John as he paced, scowling and pouting like a five year old as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone. He had his mobile pressed to his ear and John speculated to himself who it was that Sherlock was getting an earful from this time. 

He wasn’t interrupting enough for it to be Greg. Not a case, then. Could be Mummy. Sherlock never talked back to Mummy, although to be fair, neither would John. Mycroft? The disdain was certainly indicative of a conversation with the elder Holmes. Tuning in to the conversation a bit more, John listened carefully for clues. 

“I don’t care, Mycroft!” he yelled suddenly. John smirked to himself. Sherlock was pacing again, listening to his brother’s no doubt slimy tones. 

“Look, I don’t care,” Sherlock was saying, “just do it! I know you can, so get off your lazy arse, out of that cake-induced coma and make yourself useful!”

There was a short silence during which Sherlock’s scowl got even deeper and his pout even more childish. 

“Fine,” he mumbled. “Do this for me and I’ll take Mummy and Daddy to Cats.”

Sherlock hung up and tossed the phone carelessly onto the coffee table, where it promptly clattered off and onto the floor. John felt he’d seen enough. 

“You can stop hovering in the hallway, John.”

Dammit. 

“That’s really annoying, you know that, right?”

Sherlock huffed and flopped down onto the sofa again, eyes closed. John sighed, lifted Sherlock’s feet into his lap and switched on the tv. He was absent-mindedly stroking Sherlock’s calf when the news came on. Cabinet reshuffle. Turns out the rumours about that were true, then. 

John chuckled to himself for a moment, then something clicked. He sat bolt upright. Sherlock twitched but didn’t otherwise react. 

“Sherlock?”

“Hm?”

“Did you…” John trailed off. “Why are you taking your parents to see Cats?”

Sherlock scrunched up his nose and tried to hide his face. His voice was muffled by the sofa cushions. 

“What? I can’t hear you, love,” John said, barely even noticing the endearment until Sherlock blushed to the roots of his curls. 

“He had to go,” Sherlock mumbled. “He’s an idiot, and he pissed you off. So, he had to go.”

John grinned, giving in the the impulse to reach over and stroke his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. Soft, like he’d always thought it’d be. Sherlock arched his back and nudged his head up into John’s hand. 

“Like that, then?” John murmured. He leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock hummed delightedly and reached up to tangle his huge hands in John’s jumper. John deepened the kiss but it somehow never lost its tenderness. Gently, they parted, both smiling besottedly. 

“John?”

“Yes, love?”

“If I can get Mycroft to fire Theresa May, will you give me a blow job?”


End file.
